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Friday, June 27, 2008

Well there you have it, “Nothing to it”. Even an old fart like me can survive a total knee replacement. I am now at day 122 of my recovery. Some tissue, ligament and muscle pain, but joyously, no bone on bone pain which I had endured for so many years. My report today is that I have returned to hiking, biking and more or less a normal lifestyle.

An interesting aside is that I have a heightened awareness to people and objects entering my space. This in the interest of protecting my nearly indestructible man made knee joint.

Speaking of personal space, I would like to introduce to you my new friend, Gloria Marthai, who so intimately described her personal space in this writing. Enjoy.

My personal acre is round and moves with me wherever I go.Sometimes it squeezes oblong if, for instance, I go through a narrow door. There are no corners in which to hide.

I feel like an actress, acting out my life on a stage in the round. It is a field of my personal drama, good and bad. Not everyone is allowed to enter my acre, in fact, there are very few who can and, with them, I don’t act. I am completely myself, up-front, not to be caught in a web of deceit. No politics for this gal!My tears can also muddy my acre sometimes when I’m sad.

Last week, my four horses had a great time, manes and tails flying as they raced one another for my attention. I saw my children doing somersaults and playing.Daughter Sunny humming a tune as she neatened her doll house and son Robert, the great archer, hunting with his pet hawk on his forearm. I felt the tingling sensation of my lover’s fingers, as he touched my face, feeling the undulations of my skin while doing a sculptured head of me.

My personal acre is usually soft and comforting like my grandmother’s old down comforter but can also give me resilient ground to fight my battles. Like hitting a man with a garden stake, when he pushed our neighbor, an old man, into a flower bed.

Yes, I like the shape of my personal acre, even though it was tricky laying out a circle. Thank goodness for Pi. I don’t want to stumble uninvited into another person’s acre.